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Fair Race’s Darkest Hour (book)

Affordable gift for your friends

front_cover

A catechism of racial thought, compiled from many of the world’s foremost thinkers on race and western politics—and some unknown internet commentators—edited and commentated upon by C. T.

Acknowledgment is due to the following authors and commenters: Arthur Kemp, Hajo Liaucius, Kevin MacDonald, Michael O’Meara, Jason Richwine, Manu Rodríguez, Roger Devlin, Evropa Soberana (blogsite), Vance Stubbs, Tomislav Sunic, Jared Taylor, Joseph Walsh and the late William Pierce (the list is not complete).

Just released and available from Amazon Books.

Postscript of February 16, 2015:

The above is a cheap softcover edition. There’s now a more expensive updated edition in hardcover.

Categories
Dwight D. Eisenhower Ethnic cleansing Evil Holodomor Joseph Stalin Red terror Thomas Goodrich Winston Churchill

Horrific war, calamitous peace

by Nelson Rosit

“WWII represented the triumph of Evil. Seventy years afterward the fruits are evident and undeniable. We are all paying for it now.”

—A commenter of The Occidental Observer

BookCoverImage
 
Hellstorm: The Death of Nazi Germany,
1944—1947
by Thomas Goodrich
Sheridan, CO: Aberdeen Books, 2010
Reviewed by Rosit in 2014 on TOO

 
 

Introduction

I was flattered when asked to review Thomas Goodrich’s book Hellstorm. Though first published in 2010 it has recently come out in paperback and Kindle editions and deserves wider notice. That said, I knew this would not be an easy book to read and review.

Hellstorm chronicles the atrocities and deprivations visited upon Germany from 1944 to 1947. Though much of the story will be familiar to serious students of World War II, the author appears to have also included some new primary-source material. The bibliography shows that Goodrich has accessed most of the older major works in this field, making Hellstorm a well-researched compendium. So, if you have not read Bacque, Sajar, Keeling, et al. you will find them quoted and footnoted here.

In addition to hundreds of footnotes the book contains two maps, always a plus, sixteen pages of photographs, and a useful bibliography and index. If fault can be found, it would be that Goodrich seems to have completed his research by 2000 so none of the more recent historiography has been included. Also, there are places in the narrative where the events described are not assigned a date and location making the chronology a bit unclear.

These are minor criticisms, however, because it is not simply as a piece of historiography that Hellstorm finds its power, but as a gut wrenching, heart rending story of human suffering and the malice that produced that misery.


Synopsis

Prologue: Right from the start Goodrich grabs the reader by the lapels and shakes him. He starts by describing the fate of the East Prussian village of Nemmerdorf. In October 1944 it became the first town in Germany proper to be overrun by the Red Army. Soviet troops went into a blood frenzy of rape, torture, and murder.

The author makes it clear that by 1944 the war aims of the Allies was not just the defeat of the German armed forces, nor even the destruction of the National Socialist regime, but rather, “nothing less than the utter extinction of the German nation” (p. 6). Why the genocidal intent?

Goodrich suggests that, in large part, this genocide was the culmination of an eleven-year propaganda campaign against Germany lead mainly by American Jews. International Jewry had declared war on Germany in 1933 by instituting economic sanctions as well as the above-mentioned propaganda offensive. The author quotes from Theodore N. Kaufman’s book Germany Must Perish! “Germany must perish forever! In fact—not in fancy… by preventing the people of Germany from ever reproducing their kind” (p. 7). He also cites Ben Hecht’s A Guide for the Bedeviled in which Germany and Germans are compared to a cancer which must be destroyed.

On September 15, 1944 President Franklin Roosevelt converted such hate-filled rants into official policy by endorsing the Morgenthau Plan. Named for Secretary of the Treasury Henry Morgenthau and developed by his chief lieutenant Harry Dexter White (both Jews), this plan envisioned reducing the postwar population of Germany by two-thirds mainly through the starvation of 50 million men, women, and children. Winston Churchill also signed on to the Morgenthau Plan.

To the east, Ilya Ehrenburg, “perhaps the most influential Jewish writer anywhere in the world,” was advocating German genocide via articles in Pravda, Isvestja, and Red Star as well as in millions of leaflets distributed at the front. “The Germans are not human beings… Kill, Red Army men, kill! No fascist is innocent, be he alive, be he as yet unborn” (p. 10).

dresden et alChapter 1 covers the terror bombings conducted by American and especially British air forces. This campaign begun in July 1943 with attacks on the port city of Hamburg that left, “750,000 homeless [and] an estimated 60,000 to 100,000 dead, mostly women and children” (p. 14). Called by various names—area bombing, carpet bombing, saturation bombing, and unrestricted bombing—the indiscriminate destruction of urban areas could more accurately be described as terror bombing.

The leading architect of terror bombing was Chief of British Bomber Command Arthur “Bomber” Harris. Postwar assessments by military and political leaders as well as historians have led most to agree that, in contrast to strategic bombing of military targets and production and transportation facilities, bombing of residential areas and cultural monuments was ineffective. While causing massive devastation, it failed to break civilian morale.

Chapter 2 deals with the issue of POWs on the Eastern Front. Much has been written about the poor treatment received by captured Soviet (but not Western) soldiers. But Goodrich makes the point that Stalin, “refused to sign the Geneva Convention on prisons of war or the Hague Treaty on land warfare” (p. 49). With no assurance of humane treatment for their own troops Germans gave little quarter. Unfortunately, massacres of prisoners on both sides began early. For instance, on July 1, 1941 160 captured Germans were shot or bayonetted in Broniki, Ukraine.

Chapter 3 continues to chronicle events on the Eastern Front as the Soviets advance into Germany. Rape, murder, looting, and destruction accompany the Red Army. “Kill them all, men, old men, children, and the women, after you have amused yourself with them!” urged Ilya Ehrenberg (p. 81). One German boy recalled that in his town, “everyone wearing anything military—a military coat, for example… [was] shoved against a wall and shot” (p. 86). Also in this chapter Goodrich recounts the disaster that befell the refugees trying to flee west by sea. On the night of January 30, 1945 the Wilhelm Gustloff was steaming west on the Baltic Sea, grossly overloaded with 8,000 women, children, and wound soldiers. Goodrich skillful describes the scene.

That black stormy night, as she struggled through high winds and heavy, ice-filled waves, the Gustloff’s ventilation and plumbing systems failed utterly. Strained beyond its limits, the tightly-sealed ship filled with a hot, nauseating stench of urine, excrement, and vomit. The groans and screams of severely wounded soldiers and the wails of separated families added to the ghastly horror. But the worst was yet to come. At approximately 9 P.M., three heavy jolts rocked the passengers on the Gustloff. (p. 89)

The ship had been torpedoed by a Soviet sub. Goodrich gives a figure of roughly 7,000 men women and children lost.

Chapter 4 gives an account of the Yalta Conference of February 1945. For seven days the leaders of the Big Three—Britain, the US, and the USSR—met in Crimean Black Sea resort. This conference confirmed the decision made by Roosevelt and Churchill at Casablanca in 1943 to accept nothing less than unconditional surrender from Germany thus insuring that the Germans would fight to the bitter end. Goodrich notes that the US President “was a staunch supporter and admirer of [Stalin] and defended him at every turn” (p. 98). It was FDR who gave the Soviet dictator the moniker “Uncle Joe.”

Most of this chapter is devoted to describing the holocaust of Dresden. The city, which had been spared up to this time, was obliterated in mid February 1945 by Allied air attacks. The author gives six compelling reasons why Dresden should have been spared the destruction visited upon Hamburg and other German cities. But spared it was not.

On February 13 and 14 the magnificent Baroque city was bombed to rubble. Then thousands of incendiary bombs were dropped igniting the debris to create huge fire storms. “[T]he International Red Cross estimated that 275,000 had died… other estimates that place the death toll at 300,000 to 400,000 may well be closer to the mark” (p. 123). After the horror of Dresden a few Allied political and military leaders raised protests, but “the air terror continued unabated” (p. 125).

Chapter 5 returns to the plight of those fleeing the Soviet advance. After 150 pages of death and destruction the reader may think he has become inured to descriptions of violence. Then Goodrich recounts the shocking story of Neustettin. After the Red Army overran the city in February 1945 2,500 girls of the Reich Labor Service were killed, many after the most gruesome torture imaginable.

Chapter 6 deals with the conduct of Allied soldiers in the West. Their behavior was not nearly as bad as the Soviets, but the GIs did “‘their share of looting and raping’ a US sergeant admitted” (p. 169). Even more serious than looting and rape were the “large number of captured or surrendered Germans [who] were simply slaughtered on the spot” (p. 170). Fortunately, these were the exceptions rather than the rule and Goodrich concedes that “the average GI and Tommy comported himself amazingly well” (p. 170).

Chapter 7 describes the Battle of Berlin, the desperate, heroic, ugly, and hopeless defense of the German capital.

Chapter 8 covers a number of topics: the concentrations camps in the West, the fate of German POWs and civilians in the East, and the treatment of foreigners who supported or collaborated with the Germans.

When the concentration camps in western Germany were captured Allied soldiers were greeted by the sight of thousands of emaciated bodies, living and dead. With the breakdown in production and distribution of food, fuel, clothing, and medicine, “thousands of camp inmates swiftly succumbed in the final weeks of the war to typhus, dysentery, tuberculosis, starvation, and neglect” (p. 230). The Allied forces blamed the camp guards for these conditions and shot most of them on the spot. At this point of the war, however, many of the guards were ordinary German soldiers assigned to the camps to keep some semblance of order until Allied troops arrived.

The surrender of German forces in the spring of 1945 did not bring peace nor stop the killing. In Czechoslovakia German civilians and POWs were subjected to savage reprisals. Almost all Germans, many from families who had been there for centuries, were expelled from their homes. Over 200,000 were killed, many tortured to death. Similar scenes, on a lesser scale, were played out in Rumania, Hungary, and Yugoslavia. In France, 100,000 French citizens who had collaborated with the Germans were murdered.

At the end of the war over five million Soviet citizens—POWs, Cossacks, foreign workers, veterans of Vlasov’s German/Russian army—fell into the hands of the western Allies. To appease Stalin, Operation Keelhaul was implemented to forcibly return these millions to the USSR to face execution or years of slave labor. Operation Keelhaul became Operation Prevarication as the War Department solemnly proclaimed, “The United States Government has taken a firm stand against any forced repatriation and will continue to maintain this position… There is no intention that any refugee be returned home against his will” (p. 251).

Meanwhile General Eisenhower was circumventing the Geneva Convention by designating captured German soldiers as DEFs, Disarmed Enemy Forces rather than POWs who would be accorded certain protections under international law. As a result, the surrendering Germans were imprisoned in huge open-air enclosures without shelter, and with little food, water, or medical care. Hundreds of thousands died of exposure, starvation, dehydration, and disease. Probably close to one million German prisoners died in American and French camps. “And thus, in ‘peace,’ did ten times the number Landsers die than were killed on the whole Western Front during the whole of the war” (p. 260).

“These Nazis are getting a dose of their own medicine’ a prison commandant reported proudly” (p. 255). At the same time the International Red Cross reported that ninety-nine percent of American POWs held by Germany survived the war and returned home safely.

human torch

Chapter 9 begins with the German unconditional surrender on May 8, 1945. One phase of the war was over. Incredibly, “the worst yet lay ahead… The war against Germany continued unabated” (p. 279). Goodrich points out that the Morgenthau Plan was never officially repudiated and what might be called the Modified Morgenthau was implemented. “‘Most children under ten and people over sixty cannot survive the coming winter,’ one American admitted in October 1945” (p. 289). A few US elected officials protested the treatment of Germans, but the great humanitarian Eleanor Roosevelt declared after a fact-finding tour that conditions in Germany were “tolerable” (p. 292).

Chapter 10 surveys the de-Nazification process instituted after the war. This process involved imprisonment, interrogation, and punishment. Interrogation was often accompanied by beatings, rapes, and even more extreme torture. Few failed to confess to whatever they had been accused of while often implicating others as well. “One man opposed to the vengeance-minded program was George Patton. ‘Evidently the virus started by Morgenthau and [Bernard] Baruch of Semitic revenge against all Germans is still working,’ wrote the general in private” (p. 299).

Twice in the book Goodrich mentions that in immediate postwar Germany the Salvation Army was, “one of the few relief organizations that dared face and fight the incredible suffering, regardless of the Allied political pressure.” (p. 318). Although the Salvation Army was hardy able to “make a dent” in the desperate conditions these efforts might be something to keep in mind when you hear the bell ringers around Christmas time.

Chapter 11 covers the expulsions of over twelve million Germans from Prussia, Pomerania, and Silesia. After the war the USSR would claim a bit of East Prussia, the rest of the territory was awarded to Poland. The Germans, whose ancestors had lived in these lands for many centuries, were forced to flee west. Without adequate food, clothing, or shelter, exhausted and hungry, these hapless refugees were robbed, beaten, raped, and murdered by Russian soldiers, Polish militia men, and gangs of Gypsies and Jews. It was, “the greatest death march in history, [and] it was preordained that millions would never survive the trek” (p. 334).

About two million eastern German expellees, mostly women and children, died. Another one million ethnic Germans expelled from Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Rumania, Bulgaria, and Yugoslavia also died. Four million more Germans were sent east and disappeared into the gulags. Unbelievably, it appears that, “far more Germans died during the first two years of ‘peace’ than died during the previous six years of war” (p. 344).

Epilogue: The author suggests that the one thing that saved Germany from total postwar destruction was the beginning of the Cold War. By the late 1940s “Great Britain and the United States were more intent on erecting a bulwark against Soviet expansion than in flailing a fallen enemy even further” (p. 354).

Goodrich ends the book by saluting the German people’s will to live manifest in their postwar economic miracle. Yet he also notes that the propaganda campaign against Germany has continued—a psychological and political necessity for the victors to justify their wartime and postwar policies.


Conclusions

Hellstorm is revisionist history in the most basic definition of the term “revision”—to look at again. Seven decades after the end of World War II the standard narrative still reads like a morality play—the forces of good fought and triumphed over the forces of evil. Whenever history is written in such simplistic terms the reader should know that much of the story is missing. Building on earlier efforts, Hellstorm provides some of the missing pieces of the story.

This reviewer can remember when James Bacque’s Other Losses came out in 1989. It caused a minor stir. It contained evidence that perhaps one million Germans died in captivity in the West. It was released by a major Canadian publisher. It was reviewed by several mainstream publications. And, in that pre-internet age, it was available on the shelves of chain bookstores.

Yet Other Losses shows how difficult it is for any single book, no matter how significant, to change public perceptions of World War II formed by decades of incessant propaganda. Jews were the real victims of the war, and whatever losses the Germans may have suffered were their own fault.

The need for a more balanced view of the war and the need to interpret National Socialist Germany within a historical perspective is why Hellstorm is an important book. More such books need to be written. The suffering of the German people needs to be acknowledged. People of European extraction everywhere should see that the children burned alive or crushed under rubble were our children. The women beaten and raped were our women. The young soldiers summarily executed were our boys.

After seventy years, the denials and hypocrisy of the war and postwar years need to be recognized. For example, today America is fighting a War on Terror, yet terror—the killing of the innocent for military and political ends—was a major tactic of the Allies during World War II.

In 1984 Jewish author and media personality Studs Terkel published a best-selling oral history entitled The Good War. There was absolutely nothing good about World War II. It was a tragedy for our peoples and civilization.

William Faulkner wrote, “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” Thus it is with World War II. The war is still being fought. It is a psychological war that heaps shame and guilt on Germany, and ironically, on her opponents as well to the extent they shared Germany’s race and culture. The war ought to be seen as an internecine conflict, the result of a failure of statesmanship by both Anglo-American and German leaders. As Patrick Buchanan wrote, it was The Unnecessary War.

An optimist might see the tide beginning to turn. In the past several years a number of mainstream books have been published seeking to present a more impartial view of the wartime and postwar suffering.

This is much more than just an issue of nuanced historiography. The narrative of World War II continues to be used as a propaganda weapon to demoralize the West. The effort to historicize World War II should continue. Hellstorm is part of that effort.

___________________

For the footnotes see the original article on The Occidental Observer, linked at the hatnote.

Categories
Fair Race’s Darkest Hour (book) Tom Sunic

On European and American swamps

 
codreanu 

And which are our sins? Christianity and capitalism, of course…

* * *

In my last entries I spoke in high terms of Andrew Anglin but now I am disappointed that he has not given up our parents’ religion.

The US government doesn’t grant me a visa to enter again the hegemonic country of the New World. One positive thing about it is that, if I ever escape from Latin America’s largest city, I would go to the Old World.

I have little to do even with the most radical white nationalists in America. Take for example the other radical that I’ve been recently promoting in my last posts, Alex Linder. He recently commented about Hitler—:

He tried to reform the people pretty directly. I don’t agree with his approach, I don’t think there’s anything fundamentally wrong with whites. It truly is the case, I believe, that if you remove the jew, with its incessant lying, poisoning and degeneracy promoting, things will snap back to normal in short order. I really believe that.

—but hasn’t yet responded to my rebuttal on such statement. [Note of October 18: OK, Linder has now responded but not to my satisfaction. He is a bicausalist Type-A anyway…]

Why I am closer to Europe than to the US? Because at least one European is awakening to the fact that white decline has a more complex etiology than what American white nationalists believe. I tried to demonstrate this in a compilation of articles, The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour which will be available from Amazon soon. But even after it is released in print form this generation of racists rarely wants to read books.

If you don’t want to do a serious study about white nationalist myopia in America at least listen to what Tom Sunic recently said at Budapest. In a nutshell (what I concluded by gathering so many authors in The Fair Race’s hundreds of pages) Sunic blames capitalism and our parents’ religion as the main culprits.

Starting in minute 13:45 see a YouTube video on his Budapest speech this month. You may also listen the Red Ice Radio interview of Sunic after minute 50:18 here.

Categories
Alexandr Solzhenitsyn David Irving Fair Race’s Darkest Hour (book) Gulag Archipelago (book) Holocaust Red terror Thomas Goodrich

Holohoax “hoax”?

In the previous post I linked to an article where Andrew Anglin steamrolled a spineless coward in the white nationalist movement, Colin Liddell. Today Greg Johnson has, again, criticized Anglin. I am tired of this debate but must clarify something about what Johnson said on the so-called Jewish holocaust. Making mock of Anglin’s term he wrote:

The “Holohoax” hoax

Both Anglin and [Alex] Linder stridently assert that (1) the Holocaust is a hoax, and (2) this hoax is the foundation of Jewish power today, such that undermining the orthodox Holocaust story will undermine Jewish power.

I think that both claims are false.

First, even if one deducts all the falsehoods and exaggerations so ably debunked by revisionists, there is still Holocaust enough for Jewish purposes.

While I thoroughly agree with Anglin and Linder that the message for the masses must be boiled down to a mere bone, we bookworms may have the luxury to split hairs on historical matters. As I have tried to convey by the end of The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour we still have to rely on a yet-to-be published study by David Irving on Himmler (for the moment see here) to guess what exactly happened to the Jews in the Second World War. But my central point in The Fair Race was clear: whatever happened to them—although one thing is clear: the six million figure is completely bogus—the Jewish holocaust story is still a hoax.

A hoax: because the current narrative is that only the Germans committed crimes during the war. It’s a lie by omission because, as Irmin Vinson says, in almost any war one side can be dishonestly demonized even by a truthful enumeration of its crimes if the crimes of its adversaries are suppressed. I have said it many times and I must iterate again: The most relevant information I have found in my adult life is the discovery that the System lied to me about what really happened before, during and after the Second World War. I’ll never tire to repeat that what the Allies did in times of peace was incomparably more monstrous than the crimes attributed to the Germans in times of war—precisely because it was done in times of peace.

The trouble not only with Liddell and Johnson but with the rest of the effete, non-NS approaches of white nationalism is that they avoid the subject that morally the Germans had the higher ground compared to the Allied forces. Every time anybody mentions the fate of the Jews during the war a highly red-pilled man should immediately jump with reliable sources demonstrating that the Allies committed tenfold atrocities in times of peace compared to the (bogus) six-million figure in times of war. On page 178 of the abridged edition of The Gulag Archipelago Solzhenitsyn cites the estimates of a professor of statistics calculating in more than sixty million the number of lives lost as a result of internal repression from the October Revolution to 1959.

gulagWhen Solzhenitsyn’s Archipelago was published W.L. Webb said, “To live now and not to know this work is to be a kind of historical fool.” Are the non-NS wing of white nationalists historical fools? If they follow the System narrative of Jewish victimology they certainly are. The tougher type, the national socialists, should read not only the abridged version of the Archipelago but use such data every time the enemy shouts “Jewish holocaust!” to undermine white preservation. In his 1998 biography of Solzhenitsyn, D.H. Thomas says that the figures that Solzhenitsyn cites have not been refuted, and on pages 442-443 he adds a table about the causes of death of the Holocaust perpetrated on Russians that dwarfs the so-called Jewish holocaust:

  • 1917-1921 – Shooting, tortures – 6 to 12 millions

Note that Lenin was under charge then, and that even those four years comprise a figure larger than the “holocaust” attributed to the Germans.

  • 1922-1923 – Famine in the Volga region and other areas – 7.5 to 13 millions
  • 1922-1928 – Destruction of the old social classes, the clergy and believers – 2.3 millions
  • 1929-1933 – Liquidation of the kulaks, organized famine – 16 millions
  • 1934-1941 – Mass executions in prisons and camps, starvation in camps – 7 millions
  • 1941-1942 – Destruction of zeks through hunger and overwork – 7.5 millions
  • 1943-1945 – Death in Stalin’s wartime camps – 5 millions
  • 1946-1953 – Death in Stalin’s camps after the war – 6 million

The real six million! But if you add the other years the figure is about a tenfold of the crimes attributed to the Germans (keyword: attributed).

Furthermore, we still have to add the figures of still another Holocaust, this one perpetrated on Germans by Eisenhower and other Allied forces in 1945-1947, the subject of Tom Goodrich’s book Hellstorm.

banned sculpture

Incidentally, a documentary on the Hellstorm Holocaust perpetrated even against civilian Germans is coming soon (YouTube clip here).

Right: A statue of a Soviet soldier raping a pregnant German as he holds a gun to her head.

Categories
Conservatism Democracy Feminism Liberalism Real men Sex

Deal with it!

Further to my previous post. Andrew Anglin has now steamrolled a cockroach in the “right whinge” of white nationalism, a racialist liberal who cannot understand that anti-Nazi is simply a codeword for anti-white (see also Alex Linder’s input here). Below, the last section of Anglin’s overkilling piece. Pay special attention to the paragraph where he states that National Socialism was the pinnacle of European civilization.


Daily_Stormer

The sheer idiocy of pro-white liberalism

The last point in the entire debate is that no matter what you do, if you are attempting to restore traditional European society, you are going to look and act basically exactly like Nazis. Because NS was the post-industrial revolution embodiment of traditional Europeanism. It was scientifically formulated as such.

What happens is that the further you try to get away from the label of “Nazi,” the more you necessarily have to compromise, because in fleeing the label, you abandon stances and doctrines with similarities to those of the NSDAP, and so are forced to abandon key aspects of a nationalist platform.

Basically, what the Right Whinge are trying to do is combine modern liberalism with a whites-only society. And though I want something very much more extreme than that, if I thought it was possible to achieve that, I might put aside my agenda and embrace it. After all, a whites-only society, whether based on liberal principles or not, would at least give us more radical folks the option of existing how we wish to exist, free from harassment by the system.

We would also end up voting our way into power anyway through the liberal democracy system that the pro-White liberals would doubtlessly leave in place, as conservatives are still the majority in America if you get rid of the Jews and non-Whites, at which point we could form a one-party system and end the vote.

However, this plan for a liberal White revolution can’t possibly work. Even if you could manage to combine liberal thought with the concept of a Whites-only society (and you couldn’t, as is evidenced by Johnson’s attempts to do so, which contain endless inconsistencies and outright contradictions—one of the most blatant being complaining about the White birthrate while celebrating homosexuality) it would be incapable of achieving victory over the present system, largely due to the fact that liberals are weak and gutless cowards, as evidenced by Liddell and others continually speaking out against “hate” and defaming anyone who ever accomplished anything that mattered.

As I have said, they are also fundamentally incapable of rallying the masses.

What rallied the masses in the sixties, when liberalism began its conquest of the West, was seduction. They offered free sex, drugs and a general lack of any personal responsibility. Plus a lot of really good music. But the people now have all of these things. So what would you then rally them behind? Just “we need rid of these foreigners and Blacks, so we can have peace”?

It cannot work. Yes, of course people are fed up with foreigners and Blacks, but that idea alone cannot maintain a new Zeitgeist. It cannot stir the youth to revolution. What can stir the youth to revolution is a critique of the entire system of the Jews, and the way it has affected all of us on a personal level.

The fact that we can see all of these people invading our countries and feeding off of us like buzzards on a still breathing man is indeed powerfully upsetting, but at this point those who are inspired by liberal thought—who are definitively a part of a very specific socio-economic class—can still avoid them, for the most part, and it doesn’t much matter if in thirty years they are the majority, because who cares what happens in thirty years? Certainly childless middle class White liberals do not.

However, if we look at the entirety of the effects of Jew liberalism on us, the levels of alienation we’ve suffered in our individual lives, the way our families have been torn apart, the way we have been undermined by the fairer sex which was created by God to be our faithful companion, the way our masculinity has been stripped from us, the way our identity and sense of belonging has been crushed into powder and swept out into the sea—then we are left with material fit for Total Revolution.

We are vocalizing an idea which appeals to the masses, a full-on rebellion against modernity. Hitler is the ultimate symbol of that, because Hitler is Old Europe, and Old Europe is what our very bones are calling out for. National Socialism was the pinnacle of European civilization. In order to progress forward, we must first return to that point.

This is the only plan which can possibly work. Thus we should relish in extremism, not avoid it. It is all or nothing. There is no halfway. Halfway is impossible. The entire Jewish system must be removed.

Unlike Johnson, I won’t attack “mainstreamers” as useless, as I believe they ultimately move things in the right direction, even though they don’t go the whole way.

However, in the end, the only way we are going to fix society is through hardline National Socialism.

The Jew system doesn’t accept apologies for being White and I wouldn’t be willing to offer one anyway.

I am White.

I am a National Socialist.

And I am not sorry.

Deal with it.

Categories
Conservatism Real men

The Daily Stormer

hitler-on-car

Andrew Anglin’s blogsite, The Daily Stormer, which acknowledges the benign force of National Socialism, is becoming more popular among highly red-pilled whites than the old, much milder approach of racialists—fantastically more popular in fact.

See Anglin’s excellent rebuttals of Colin Liddell & Greg Johnson’s effete approaches in Anglin’s own site (e.g., here), or Alex Linder’s recent take on exactly the same subject (here).

Finally it looks like National Socialism is starting to become un-demonized among those whites who have really awoken. This promises a Great Awakening in the future for the whole West.

Sieg Heil!

Categories
Obituaries

Edgar Steele (1945-2014)

Attorney-Edgar-J-Steele

Read National Vanguard’s obituary: here.

Categories
¿Me Ayudarás? (book) Autobiography Child abuse Ethnic cleansing Evil Hojas Susurrantes (book) Justice / revenge Neanderthalism Patriarchy Rape of the Sabine Women Real men

Extermination • II

Libro
 
“How much good it would do if one could exterminate the human race.”

—Bertrand Russell

Quoted in A Bibliography of Bertrand Russell

 

1

No one, to my knowledge, has written a thorough analysis of his parents. But what I said in Hojas Susurrantes (abbreviated HS this line up) about the murder of children’s souls only lays the foundation for a further and deeper elaboration of Psychohistory, which in the last analysis shows us that the human species is a failed species.

2

From a careful reading of HS it cannot but be inferred that most of the human species should be exterminated—on top of what is written there, because, as Schopenhauer wrote, if the world is hell, human beings are the devils of the animals. And if we want to save the animals from the human devils, there is no choice but to dispatch the latter.

3

That only some of the most beautiful specimens of whites deserve to continue living; so beautiful in body and soul that they have left human devilry behind, has become so obvious to me as that the cow is a mammal—as we shall see in this sort of continuation to HS.

 
 

By way of a prologue

Most of the text of HS is not original. There are original parts, yes: the long letter to the mother with which the book opens; my experiences to twelve years, and the final part where I analyze my fear of damnation as an internal persecutor begotten as a result of my father’s crimes. However, most of HS consists of long paraphrases of other peoples’ ideas, pastiches and re-workings of their works to present the trauma model (refuting, along the way, the fraudulent professions of “mental health”).

I believe that, as a didactic work to Aryanize the trauma model away from the Semitic or philo-Semitic hands of Alice Miller and Lloyd deMause, HS honors its goal. But the problems I raised—remember how the fourth book in HS ends by mentioning the burning of children by their Semitic parents in the Ancient World, wondering if mankind had a right to exist—were left unsolved. Fortunately, this century will be crucial because of the energy devolution that is upon us, especially of oil, for Nature’s killing these humans that I hate so much and whose destruction has become my personal religion.

I will not live to see my day: that which for decades I have called the extermination of the Neanderthals, in which I include not only non-whites but those white traitors who brought them into the West. But the burden is upon me to bear witness to why I believe that the être supérieur should yearn, as so desperately I do, that the primitive version of modified apes, as in my soliloquies I call the humans of today, both white and of other races, becomes extinct.

Another huge issue never made onto paper is a detailed narrative of my agonizing experiences in 1976, when I was only seventeen, and ten years later, while living in California: experiences outlined in HS. Here I hope to talk more about those life lessons. So to confess why I hate humanity to the extent of wanting to exterminate it, at the same time being the first to analyze in detail his destructive parents—so that, after due extermination, in the Acadia of my most cherished dreams the treatment to children and animals be free of my hells—is the double helix of this new text.

But there is much more than that. In the Neanderthalesque literature that I run into the bookstores I never see confessions about male sexuality that go to the merits. In HS I quoted an Austrian writer who said that autobiography is the most difficult literary art because the adept of self-portraiture has to betray himself. Of course! How it won’t be self-betrayal for a respectable writer to recount, say, his sexual fantasies? Previous literature to the “total autobiography” suffers from cowardice insofar a text that confesses everything could be posthumous. But the so-called giants of letters, that I find so small that I do not read, never reached such confessional level. They stayed in the pre-autobiographical phase of literature. Here I will try to amend this lacuna in the section entitled “In search of the soulmate.”

Quite apart from the autobiographical question, we propose the need to rescue and/or abduct Aryan women—only the very young and pretty—from what will become multiracial clans after the civilizational collapse pulls us over to strictly ethnic strongholds. To paraphrase George Lincoln Rockwell, “He who doesn’t rape won’t fight!” will be the motto of a Blonde Beast redivivus that, by getting his manhood back, will not only become genocidal of everything that does not resemble him. The Beast will hunt for his females once the collective unconscious falls back to its original form by historical inertia forces. The brutality and savagery resulting from the collapse of the rule of law, together with the most elemental Darwinism, will mercilessly weed the feminized white males. Thanks to the energy devolution of our century the yin where today is pending the psyche of these whites will swing, like a pendulum of kilometric arc, to the Yang extreme of the right.

We won’t only lucubrate to kill non-whites around the globe and renaming cities currently inhabited by people of brown, yellow or black skin with names like “Pierce City” or “Himmler City.” The idea is that, alongside the extermination of Neanderthals, the Beast will have to go on the hunt for females, abandoning a masturbation currently afflicting millions of feminized males. The Aryan sperm injected involuntarily into those who had fornicated with the colored will fulfill the fourteen words during a holy war that will cover the world—and this time fulfilling them by brute force. The obvious objective will be to form families thank to the same élan vital that breathed life into the ancient founders of Rome by abducting, and raping, their attractive Sabine neighbors. In other words: if every nation, not just ancient Rome, is born with violence, after the darkest night of the West the Aryan Nation can only be born with extreme violence: from limit to limit of the pendulum’s arc, from the extreme yin to the extreme Yang.

Basic historical inertia: the swung pendulum is rushing toward us with vengeful force because of the incredible liberal lengths it reached in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. So far it swung toward the dark side that the “Day of the Rope” so dreamt by William Pierce in The Turner Diaries, a novel written in the 1970s but projected in the 90s, won’t be enough. We will go further. Neither Pierce nor Covington—much less Covington: a de facto feminist novelist in Freedom’s Sons—dared to predict the abduction of the new Sabine women. They did not seem to have considered that if the ancient Latins (Aryans) abducted and raped the Sabines (Aryans who copulated with Aryans), with much greater reason will be legitimate to direct our rediscovered sexual primitivism over those who delivered themselves to non-whites!

Returning to the subject of total autobiography. The victim of his parents and the fucking society who has lost everything requires getting revenge against those who spit on his cross. Only revenge heals the soul, and as I cannot settle scores with the Neanderthals at least I can tell what they did. Going into detail of what I omitted in HS will show how the evil that infected my parents also infected my siblings and how some of them, in turn, voluntarily surrendered to evil after reaching adulthood. Also, when analyzing my family, relatives, acquaintances, close and distant persons I met and even strangers whom I only interacted over the net, we will see how their behavior helped me realize that the human being is so obsolete a version of Homo sapiens as the niggers of the seedy hostel with whom I spent a night.

Finally, my exterminator conclusions I have come regarding all these people have relevance for understanding the darkest hour of the West. This topic sucked my recent years to the point of putting on a blog in English and its ramifications over a thousand entries summarized in two books: The Fair Race’s Darkest Hour and Day of Wrath (which I will be abbreviating as FR and DW). The book Extermination, that I now start, is relevant because the evil that ails the white man is the same one that destroyed my tree and its leaves and my dear family of Palenque.* And if I can unravel the evil that destroyed me I will probably unravel the evil that destroys the white race around the world, including the mass migration of non-whites in London I witnessed last month.

In other words, the evil I saw in my parents and the people I met (cf. HS) and the evil I see in westerners who are committing ethnic suicide (cf. FR and DW) is, down to the core, two sides of the same coin. That alone deserves my venture into this new literary genre: the vindictive autobiography.

Mexico City
September 2014

 

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(*) Note that this book is written for those who have already read my previous books, including HS, and understand exactly what I mean, for example, with the word “Palenque”: the house where I experienced happiness before the catastrophe of my adolescence.

Categories
¿Me Ayudarás? (book) Autobiography

Extermination • I

Or:

Second thoughts about my “parting word”

 

I was serious last July when I wrote that I would not add more posts to this page until the financial accident happens. But another sort of accident happened to me that ruined my plans (see below), and instead of making a living overseas I find myself writing again.

In the July message I also said that I would “be busy explaining my minority report.” Well, I have started that autobiographical book in my native language. Its first translated pages are precisely the ones that appear below:
 

 

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To the memory of Percy

 

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LibroOn August 4, 2014 I arrived to London in the hope of moving to a small town in the United Kingdom in order to save my life once Mexico City catches fire after the looming collapse of the dollar.

One of the smartest commenters on my blog, whom I will call “the Brazilian,” had promised, through his contacts, forged work permit so I could look for a job in England. Throughout the two years I interacted with him in the blog and then thru personal communications, this guy reiterated that he wanted to help me to move there, and when in early 2014 he indeed moved to England I thought his plans were sincere.

The man is the result of a mixture between the races of his homeland, Brazil. He himself confessed publicly that his ancestors were Iberians, blacks and mestizos. Thus in order he did not feel self-conscious with me, I told him that I was not properly white.

Later in this chapter I will talk about some “Creole nationalists”—Mexicans that show off their Iberian roots and claim to have no drop of Indian blood—with whom I interacted in Mexico. The Brazilian’s intelligence had so impressed me that I told these Creole nationalists that my Brazilian, “mulatto friend has an IQ of 140.” Moreover, in my intimate soliloquies I said, more than once, that the level of penetration of the Brazilian on important issues to understand the darkest hour in Occident amazed me. I even told to myself that an “upward quantum leap” was crystal-clear when comparing the Brazilian to the vast majority of Aryan commenters visiting my site. No one like him had captured perfectly the disaster that represented Christianity for the white race, to the extent that—like me—the Brazilian considered it a more serious problem that the Jewish problem itself. Even his derogatory remarks about the philosophers sounded to my ears far above the intellectual masturbation we read in some sophisticated pro-white sites in the internet.

The Brazilian’s intellectual acumen, along with my huge need to escape Mexico, made my defenses down and I trusted him to the extent of deferring to his judgment my first steps to immigrate. I refer not only to the steps to obtain forged documents but also to roommate concerns. (London is so expensive that almost everyone shares their departments and the poorest even their rooms.) Although, as we shall see later in Extermination, thirty-two years before I had a horrible experience in London at a time when I also wanted to escape from Mexico, this time I thought that with such smart colleague our plans could not fail. The Brazilian even offered to pick me up at Heathrow Airport outside London; by telephone he informed me that he would not go to work the Monday I arrived to pick me up.

I thanked him and my flight arrived on time. After exiting from the immigration line, where obviously I hid the British woman who interrogated me that the purpose of my trip was to immigrate, I was surprised that the Brazilian was not there. I waited about twenty minutes at Terminal 4, the specific spot of international arrivals I had mentioned to the colleague, but no sign of him. After half hour he hadn’t come. Nor forty or fifty minutes after arriving at the terminal… I had virtually not slept due to my inability to sleep sitting on the plane and I badly needed to leave the soulless airport lounge and go to the hotel I had booked and even paid from Mexico. But the Brazilian did not appear. With the heavy suitcase I carried—suitcase to emigrate, not for tourism—I could not even move at ease in the terminal. I made a change in coins from a fiver to call the Brazilian’s mobile phone. What was my surprise that he wasn’t at the airport; just on his way, and he claimed he was “about to arrive.” I stopped worrying. But time continued to pass, and more than an hour-and-a-half after my arrival at the agreed terminal, he did not appear. I was hesitant to make extra phone calls because the airport’s phone had swallowed one or two of my pound coins but tried calling. This second time his tone was less friendly, “I’m almost there!” It must have been about two to three hours after the plane landed that the Brazilian finally appeared, without apologizing for the delay.

I wish to stop now and don’t recount the misadventure of that day because it makes me mad that I trusted someone whom I had never met in the real world, but I shall keep writing…

Having been so much delayed would be only the first lack of consideration by the Brazilian to a man more than twenty years his elder, who had arrived sleepless from a transatlantic voyage. After greeting each other, the Brazilian convinced me that the taxi would be very expensive and that we better take the subway to my hotel. Once in the tube, as it is called the narrow subway in London, we had to transship over more than once the various lines en route to the hotel, always carrying my heavy suitcase up awful stairs during the transfers. When we got off from a train among the London crowd for one of these transfers, the Brazilian asked me to wait because he wanted to buy something in the store just across the tracks. He climbed the stairs, walked into the shop, came out and smiled at me before… getting out into the street.

I was completely flabbergasted! If such a thing happened to me in my right mind, not in the confused state I was, I would have acted differently. But I was at the mercy of a bloke that—allegedly—would solve my migration problems. He was the only contact I knew in London for a (crooked) work permit. As he had already been delayed at the airport without a good reason or having apologized, had I been in my right mind when he went off the street I would have told him to get lost; fled by taxi to my hotel, and would have sought a more reliable contact the following days (say, through Spanish-speaking restaurants). But without sleep as I was, with great anxiety I remained on the tube station watching the largest racial melting pot of Europe (nowadays London has white minority).

The Brazilian should have taken about thirty-five minutes to arrive, or more, since he left and only then I realized that he had not found what he wanted at the front shop; that’s why he looked it out on the street. Hours later I discovered it were beers what the miscreant had bought, who had cared a damn that his fellow blogger (the Brazilian used to maintain a blog about “racial realism” in Portuguese) remained stranded with his heavy suitcase wondering what the hell had happened.

As I said, it makes me mad to tell this because I did not react as I should. The fact that I did not possess work permit and that the Brazilian had the handle for the grill not only for it, but to get me affordable accommodation—according to him he already had reserved one—played a psychological role in my indecision to make a clean break after the second or third discourtesy. Anyway, when he came laughing and said, “What did you think: that this crazy Brazilian had abandoned you?” I hid my feelings and continued the underground journey to the hotel.

It was during another transfer, now closer to the hotel and where we had to go outside to take another train (I think it was the street where he showed me the tallest building in Europe) that the Brazilian asked me something. He said that instead of going to my hotel, why not accompanying him to the slum hostel where he was living these days. They only charged £60 per week and although his roommates were black—that is, three blacks slept in a single room, beside the Brazilian—, it was only for a week while the better place he had reserved for us would be vacating. The Brazilian had a small back suitcase containing his laptop. He dared not leave it in the hostel with such hosts and carried it every time he went out.

Go figure my dear readers… All of my travel strategy had been based on a bloke that, now I realized, was on the verge of homelessness as he had to carry his belongings in the street for fear of loosing them in a “hostel” without lockers. Had I not been so obfuscated by the turn of events I would have stopped dry the adventure that very instant. But cognitively I was not well. In fact, I was completely alienated. True: I had prepared with extreme meticulousness everything left in Mexico—my library, my manuscripts in ring-binders and envelopes sealed against moisture (I thought I wouldn’t be back in years), the taking care of my pet and even a big farewell party for all believed I would leave for good—, but about my stay in England I had deferred all planning to “the mulatto of 140 of IQ.”

What a mistake. It was not until my return to Mexico, when I told the details of my misadventure to my old friend Paulina, that I noticed things that a man usually cannot see. Pau listened carefully and explained that men tend to admire intelligence at the expense of the other facet of the human psyche: empathy. I knew that in the white nationalist movement there were people with terrible character flaws. But the fact that the Brazilian seemed a hybrid between mestizo and mulatto was no reason to distrust him, as he believes in the “fourteen words” to the extent of having promised not to leave offspring. (Remember the first lesson to the Hitler Youth of Faith and Action by Helmut Stellrecht: “But if your blood has traits that will make your children unhappy and burdens to the state, then you have the heroic duty to be the last.”)

Unfortunately, character flaws can be hidden over the internet. And as in Mexico I only had considered the intellectual aspect of this bloke—a “hemiplegia” of mine, so to speak instead of having delved into the two facets of the person—, in a state of complete cognitive alienation to what was happening I agreed to his idea to abort the journey to my hotel and go to his hostel.

I would lie if I lay the blame at the Brazilian. Now that I’m out of the UK I find it obvious that the planning of my trip was grotesque, to say the least. “The drowning will grab at straws,” and the urgency of leaving a Neanderthalesque Mexico and survive the dollar collapse was such that I put aside from my consciousness basic matters I should have contemplated at my age, before venturing on another continent.

The journey to the hostel was not underground but from the outside, traveling in one of those red double-decker Routemaster buses so showy in London. And still there came the miscreant character of he whom I had placed my most cherished hopes. Throughout the journey in the underground and on the outside of the biggest city in Europe—a crossing that, due to change of plans, had already lasted more than two hours after leaving the airport—the Brazilian had never been solicitous in helping me with my heavy suitcase. Now, in the red double-decker bus, he swiftly climbed to the second floor and asked me repeatedly to go upstairs with him! It was then for the first time, that I showed some self-respect by refusing to come up with my heavy suitcase. During that second-long journey—remember that by aborting the way to the hotel we now were going to a very different address—we still had to make another transfer, but this time from bus to bus. We descended into a densely populated and very noisy area of London; streets swarmed with lots of blacks. To my surprise, the Brazilian told me to wait because he was going to find a toilet.

Lo and behold I was once again alone among human swarms with my heavy suitcase and no sleep! (Later, when I learned that the first time he left he had gone to buy beer, I connected the dots and realized that it was urgent for him to urinate the ingested alcohol.) In that hideous swarthy-filled street, and carrying something less than £2,000 in cash along with my credit cards, a black approached me. I didn’t understand a word. Scared and carrying the heavy suitcase I entered a grocery store but the attendants were not white either. My anxiety was very obvious until the Brazilian reappeared and we boarded the final bus that would take us to our destination.

Unlike the noisy subway, on the red bus it was possible to talk. At last we initiated conversation on topics that fascinate me. I told him that I had seen some mixed couples in London and was greatly surprised that there were so many blacks. He replied that it was a punishment to the English for having waged war against Germany, and added that Nazi Germany was by far the noblest creature that European history had produced. Then he said he did not understand how Americans like Matt Parrott insist on mixing the unmixable: Christianity with white nationalism.

It was not until we reached his quarters that I received the biggest shock of the trip. It’s true that in 1982 I had spent a night in London in a spacious room of a Youth Hostel; a room with many beds. But back then they were all European Aryans; I, the only foreigner. I was twenty-four and, coming from Mexico, was amazed at how good looking some of those English were (in the country where I was born almost all seemed Neanderthals to me). But now I was in 2014, and the all-encompassing social engineering of the British elites in recent decades, that is, replacement of the native race by imported race, had been a success. The Brazilian’s room was not spacious as the hostel I had slept decades ago. It was of regular size with the most miserable niggers you might think of. In fact, in no way it resembled a hostel but one of those trash-people rooms subsidized by charities for the homeless in large metropolis. But they were not homeless: they were blacks surviving, I suppose, from the same type of underemployment of the Brazilian.

I barely saw the spectacle and wanted to run away. On the street the Brazilian insisted that I should pay the £60 for the week. It was already night and he claimed he was tired and that we should think things over the next day. I didn’t know what to do. I had to cancel the hotel reservation so that it was not charged to my American Express, but there were no public telephones in the neighborhood. I tried to get information in a grocery store that opened at night, but they were immigrants who hardly knew English and were unaware of the dynamics of the big city. Not even the Brazilian could tell me what was, in England, the telephone equivalent to 911 so that, through his cell phone, I could make a call. The Brazilian kept insisting me to pay the £60, as the “hostel” never receives one-night payment, only a full week; and said I should forget my worries until the next day. (Take into account that with those £60 I could have spent a single night in a modest hotel, even after losing my reservation.) Still arguing in the street, the Brazilian, speaking in a serious tone, argued that he was tired; ignoring that it was me who had not slept the night before, and insisted to forget the matter of seeking hotel or making emergency phone calls.

As there was no one to help me, not even a taxi to get on in those streets, and as I was worried that in that colored neighborhood I could be assaulted and my money taken away (for my heavy suitcase I was an obvious target), I agreed. I reentered the “hostel,” paid the administrator of the slum the £60 he demanded, and walked into to the room of blacks and the mulatto Brazilian.

But I could not sleep… Although I had not slept the night before I was in a state of extreme anxiety.

I went out to the hostel’s terrace and finally I saw a white man. He was also an immigrant. He didn’t have fluent English and told me he was from Romania. As it had happened to me decades ago in the same city, as I newly arrived from Neanderthalesque lands I was pleasantly surprised by the looks of the blond Romanian. I spoke with him in the fresh night but not for long. He was not very smart and I also felt a little cold in the outdoors terrace. (I had left the plane with my jacket, shirt and dress pants but had not changed my clothes; one of the blacks that tried to sleep in the dirty room, where my cloths were, had warned me not turn the light on.) Apparently the Brazilian also failed to reconcile sleep and after sighting me in the terrace he went to the kitchen to talk at length with a muscular black returning from the gym. The Brazilian informed me that to survive in such place—go figure, myself in formalwear with the downtrodden—, one had to learn to converse amiably with the dark-skinned. The long conversation of the Brazilian with the huge black gave the lie to the claim that he was too tired to help me make an urgent phone-call.

I don’t remember the exact moment when the Brazilian told me that the police had arrested his contact—the very contact that was supposed to get me the papers. He did not say whether he had been arrested the day before or the day I arrived at Heathrow. But I doubt that, if the story is true, it was such a recent event. Chances are that the arrest had occurred long before—which means that the Brazilian had not warned me on time, when I was in Mexico. Had I been informed on time I would have aborted any plan to cross the Atlantic!

The events yelled at me that the trip had been in vain. By not having warned me in time of the arrest the Brazilian had committed a trick of confidence. However, even though that day the Brazilian confessed that he was desperately seeking a decent roommate, I failed to suspect that behind his convincing me to come to London a sinister motive was hiding. The crux of his confession was that his old roommate was a black homosexual whose conduct had caused the Brazilian to flee from there and move to the seedy hostel (where we were now).

I am ashamed to say that even with all this novel information I was slow to connect the dots that such insistence that I go London had not been motivated to help me, the word he used several times but to help himself in his problems with blacks. The underlying motivation of Brazilian seemed to be: “Unlike this nigger, blogger César, who comes from an educated family and whose parents have three pianos at home and five servants, will be my personal savior.”

Such naiveté!: In Mexico I had only imagined a Brazilian full of honor, insofar he vehemently insisted he did not plan to reproduce even after finding a woman in England (remember the wise counsel of Helmut Stellrecht for non-whites). But in London he told me that even before his “racial awakening”—something unheard of in a man of color—he had come to the firm conclusion that he would not leave descendants in Brazil. It was not until I assimilated even more painful confessions than that of the “gay nigger”—for example, that the day prior to my arrival the Brazilian had been wandering at London’s downtown because he could not remember where he lived, and that he drank alcohol to cope with his pathetic life—that I began to glimpse who he really was.

The trip had been a fraud. My purpose had never been crossing the ocean to help a mulatoid fellow to find a roommate—but looking sanctuary for me in a small English village with no coloreds to survive the dollar collapse! He who so much boasted to know something of human psychology had been duped like a child…! Nothing had I suspected of the motives of Brazilian: trying to use me to solve his problem and, therefore, the understandable lack to timely notify me about the “arrest.”

But back to my sleepless night.

My mattress had no sheets. I had no choice but to put my white skin in contact with a mattress that must have suffered a thousand sweats from blacks. Even in such conditions I tried to sleep with the four darks of the room. My anxieties and a disagreeable negress snoring inches from me on the top bunk—the pseudohostel was so abhorrent that not only races mixed, but the very sexes too—didn’t let me sleep…

But with the dawn I regained my senses. In the morning, with several guests already waking up on the terrace, including some I had not seen the previous evening, the Brazilian insisted I opened a bank account and said that another of his contacts worked in a bank (by law, tourists cannot open accounts in the UK). Perhaps that employee even knew, the Brazilian told me, another person to obtain work permit.

But I had lost confidence in him. The second night of consecutive sleeplessness I had talked to another night bird, Stuart, who lived there in another room and used to talk to the Romanian during the evenings on the terrace. His accent was not British. Stuart was born in Scotland and raised in New Orleans. As the Brazilian, Stuart had been so badly beaten by life that he had fallen to the pseudohostel. We spoke of my racial ideas and this young man conceded that in New Orleans blacks had behaved very poorly during hurricane Katrina. He was not bothered, though somewhat surprised, about my overtly racist worldview and I asked him what was the whitest city in Scotland. He said that Perth and his hometown, Dundee. He added that the beautiful town of Perth was ideal for retirees (i.e., for people like me had I arrived with the proper funds to buy a modest house).

I made my decision. That morning I was not going to endure a single minute of a “hostel” which did not even have showers for bathing. The blacks woke up and put their filthy music we all heard over the terrace. I told the Brazilian that I would go to Scotland. He was surprised but, by seeing my resolution, walked along with me to the outskirts of the metro station. We said goodbye and never met again.

I still struggled that day to reach Perth. It was not the Victoria Station that the Brazilian had suggested but the famous King’s Cross the one which would take me to the far north: the very one where they had filmed the movies of the magical station in Harry Potter. My flight had been so hurried that already going on my train to Scotland I had to ask one of the uniformed train attendants if Perth was large enough to house hotels. By fleeing multiracial London and the nightmarish underworld of the Brazilian I hadn’t had time to make the most basic inquiries! (the hostel didn’t have Wifi access). Although nearly all uniformed workers in train stations were black, I approached an Anglo-Saxon woman who informed me that there were hotels there. However, still dying of tiredness I was unable to sleep sitting up and had to wait six more hours to reach my destination.

When I arrived to Perth the tourist information center was closed, but the taxi driver of the terminal, a typical Scot, was extremely helpful in taking me to the cheapest places he knew. We went to Dunkeld Road not far from the station, and the Scot awaited me several times while I knocked the doors of various guesthouses. As it was midsummer the signs were saying “No vacancy” but in one of the houses, Connie, the Irish woman who received guests in Clark Kimberly Guest House, admitted me gladly. Having no reservation I had to rent an expensive room with double bed.

But it didn’t matter. That night I slept placidly after so long. At last I encountered myself in the hands of the white man…

Categories
Conspiracy theories

Disagree with Ronin

"A Short History of the RPN”: A radio podcast interview of Sebastian Ronin. - July 27, 2014

 

I agree and disagree with Sebastian on quite a few points.

I agree with most of Sebas’ criticism of American-style white nationalism and that Covington is mainly a writer, not an actual politician. But… somewhere during the interview, did Sebas imply that 9/11 was an inside job? Readers of WDH know that conspiracy theories are utter BS for me.

After listening the interview I wonder if Sebas is promoting women in the inner party? I ask this because I am a real traditionalist: no women were politically empowered in the most virile, martial societies that we must admire in our history. Feminist quotas are to be avoided at all costs, especially in the coming holy wars which will be the nastiest of all history due to the WMD. Compassionate women would only impede final solutions to our many problems.

More important is that both Sebas and his interviewer reject genocide on non-whites in the coming struggle for secession. I believe they are contradicting themselves on this point.

If energy devolution is pivotal in their worldview, there’s no chance that a white ethnostate will survive with a gluttonous new kid on the bloc like China unless it hostilely takes over the oil fields of non-white countries later in the century (which would condemn them to die like flies). Since Mother Nature will kill at least 5 billion of humans, there’s no chance that the ethno-nationalists in charge of a newly-formed State won’t ferociously fight for the ever scarcer fields after Nature hits the fan.

In other words, Sebas et al cannot have it both ways—peak oil and behave like Christian axiologists with the sand-niggers. On this point they’re on the same page of a recent article by Greg Johnson, the wishful belief that the ethnostate will be achieved without true “Rivers of Blood”.